


Real

by spickandspock



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Character Death, Gen, Insanity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-10
Updated: 2013-01-10
Packaged: 2017-11-25 01:04:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/633444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spickandspock/pseuds/spickandspock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reality is a tricky thing. However, there is one thing that is always undeniably real.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Real

* * *

Reality is a tricky thing. There are some who pose the question of reality's existence. There are others who dedicate their lives to questioning what reality truly is. What composes reality? Why does reality exist? Is reality even real, or simply a different plane of thinking to other realities?

He believes it all to be absolute twaddle. Reality is reality; there is no question. It is and always will be, and there are far more interesting and important things to do than to question the existence of something undeniably true. And yet...

There are times when a small seed of doubt is planted in his mind, then another, then another, watered by his hectic thoughts, until something dark and frightening grows in his mind. What _was_ reality? What _was_ real? Was anything real, or was it merely an illusion? Was he real, or nonexistent, an audience to the lives of others?

He always, of course, dashed such thoughts away, scoffed and called himself foolish before moving on, occupying himself with some work to keep his mind from it. But the growth remained, slowly stretching until it could curl around his heart. Loosely, of course, so as not to be noticed. Only when he was at his most vulnerable did it cinch tight, crushing and cutting and knocking the breath from him, leaving him shaken, unsettled. And yet, he would push it away still, distancing himself from it as best he could. That couldn't, however, keep him from growing uncertain when John seemed to flicker from view for a brief second, or when Mrs. Hudson disappeared for some time, or when Lestrade grew still, like a wind-up doll whose key hadn't been turned. Then, the doubt and fear would return. Was any of it real?

He didn't know, and supposed he never would. 

* * *

 

In a little room, in a little facility, in a little place unknown to all but three, Mycroft Holmes stood, observing the still form of his brother.  
  
"No progress has been made?" he qeuried, though already knowing the answer.

"None, Sir," the doctor said. "Quite unfortunately, he seems lost to this world. We have tried all manner of things to rouse him; medication, electric shocks, even placing him in different enviroments. Nothing had any effect."

"Pity," Holmes said, and for a moment,  one was almost able to believe he meant it. 

The doctor nodded his agreement. "Quite."   
  


Silence reigned for a few moments as they watched the thin man on the cot, lost within the labyrinth of his own mind. 

Finally, Mycroft said, "Procedure 221 is to be executed immediately."

The doctor paled. "B-But Sir! Surely there are more things to be tried!"

He shook his head. "No. My brother will never recover;  his fall has damaged him permanently. Termination is kind."

Though still shaken, the doctor nodded. "It will be carried out immediately, Sir."

And so it was. Within moments, the doctor had paged one of his nurses, and she soon bustled in, tutting quietly.  Her fingers brushed soft curls from the patient's pale face. Seconds later, the same fingers were holding his IV line so she could administer the drug to stop his heart.

A moniter emitted a steady drone. The nurse tutted before unplugging it and carting it away. The doctor and the politician stood in silence.

Sherlock Holmes was no more. 

Reality is a tricky thing. However, there is one thing that is always undeniably real. 

Death. 

 


End file.
